


Just Another Day At The Office

by fringedweller



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringedweller/pseuds/fringedweller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has to write crack fic at some point, right? Right?<br/>This is very loosely based on a prompt or two from the kink meme that I've completely lost. Something about an alien holding the men of the Enterprise prisoner and threatening the women, but the men laughing because they know the women are kick-ass?</p><p>I didn't want this to be crack, but it turned out that way. No beta, so don't blame seren_ccd. It's really not her fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Day At The Office

“Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha!”

The maniacal laughter rang through the elaborate and ornate headquarters of Fremonians Against Repressive Tyranny. The leader of their group sat atop a giant throne, surrounded by extremely well-equipped security forces dressed in shiny black uniforms.

“We have you now, Starfleet scum! The Federation will have to listen to our demands now that we hold the captain of the flagship of the fleet!”

Kirk looked vaguely embarrassed by that. He, McCoy, Scotty and Spock were chained by their wrists to a nearby wall and looked angry, resigned and stoic in turn.

“Sorry, guys,” Kirk said quietly. “I should have known that something was off when the King introduced him as a Grand Vizier. There’s no such thing as a good Grand Vizier.”

“The private army should have given you a clue,” McCoy hissed. “ ‘Don’t be stupid Bones, they’re not security guards, they’re just _gardeners_.’ Gardeners! How many gardeners do you know that use _phased plasma rifles_?”

“It’d cut th’ amount of weeding down a treat, I’ll give you that,” said Scotty, helpfully. “When we get back to the ship I’ll hav’ta see if Botany would like one.”

“When we get back to the ship, Commander, our first job will be to ascertain the location of Lieutenants Uhura, Gaila and Chapel and Yeoman Rand. Any advances in scientific research will have to be delayed until a rescue party returns.”

Spock sounded almost regretful, as if he would like to see the _Enterprise_ ’s botanists let loose on the arboretum with lethal gardening equipment.

“Aye,” said Scotty. “Shouldn’t take that long though, don’t you think?”

“All we need to do,” Kirk said thoughtfully, “is provoke the Grand Vizier into losing his temper.”

“Shouldn’t be that hard,” muttered his chief medical officer. “You make me angry enough pretty often, and I’m your best friend.”

“ _After_ we’ve done that,” Kirk said sharply, “He’s bound to challenge me to death by single combat. This type always does. I’ll fight him, let him think he’s about to deliver a killer blow then leap aside at the last minute, giving him a non-lethal but effective karate-chop to the neck. He will concede defeat, I’ll release you and we’ll beam back to the ship to get a landing party together to look for our missing crew. Any thoughts?”

“What if he doesn’t challenge you to death by single combat?” asked McCoy.

“What if he doesn’t concede defeat?” asked Scotty.

“What if, on seeing the defeat of their leader, the armed guards execute us with their plasma rifles?” asked Spock.

Kirk paused. “That’s never happened before,” he pointed out eventually.

“However, the fact that an action has never occurred before does not preclude it ever happening,” Spock replied. “Before Stardate 3456.8 you never commanded the Enterprise while wearing a variation of Starfleet uniform intended for a female, yet on that date you did just that.”

“That was for a _bet_!” Kirk hissed.

“It does not matter if the reason for the action was a wager, a replicator malfunction or a gesture intending to show your disregard for Terran costuming norms. You still wore a dress, captain.”

“And I kicked Romulan _ass_ in it!” Kirk said proudly.

“Only because they were so busy laughing at your legs that they forgot to raise their shields,” McCoy pointed out.

“It still counts!” Kirk protested.

“There’s nothing wrong with flashing a bit o’leg at times,” Scotty agreed. “Any kilt-wearing Scotsman’ll tell you _that_.”

The Grand Vizier cleared his throat pointedly.

“I’m sorry gentlemen, am I interrupting you?” he asked pseudo-politely.

“Let us go, Tahash, and I promise that the Federation won’t bring charges against you for unlawful kidnap and imprisonment,” Kirk said loudly, lying through his teeth.

“Ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Oh fantastic, you’ve set him off again,“ McCoy muttered.

“You’re going nowhere, captain! I’m going to use you and your crew as bargaining chips against the evil, tyrannical King Jolan and the miserable Federation of planets!”

Tahash stood from his throne, threw back his head dramatically and laughed again, his deep green cloak billowing outwards behind him in a dramatic fashion.

“I wonder where that air vent is?” Scotty said to himself as he peered around the cavernous room. “It’s very conveniently placed for melodramatic statements.”

“You’ll never use us!” Kirk shouted back, taking up a dramatic pose of his own. “We’d die before letting that happen!”

“Steady on,” said McCoy.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that you’ll do _exactly_ as I tell you to,” said the Grand Vizier ominously. “Force Leader! The screen!”

One of the black-suited security guards saluted the Grand Vizier then scurried over to the side of the room and began fiddling with a control panel. With a deep rumble and a hiss of steam, a giant viewscreen descended from a hidden panel in the ceiling. It made its way slowly towards the ground, but got stuck halfway down. It screeched to a halt, and the mechanism controlling it made an unpleasant whining noise.

“ _That’s_ what you get when you don’t lubricate your bearings,” Scotty said knowledgably. “If they keep forcing the mechanism like that, it’s gonna blow.”

Clearly the Force Leader and several other guards who had rushed over to help had come to the same conclusion. One of them was pushed towards the Grand Vizier, who was visibly losing his temper.

“Fine!” he snapped at the hapless guard, who was quivering a little. “We’ll just have to get _neckache_ then, won’t we!”

He aimed a kick at the guard, who stumbled away into the crowd of uniformed soldiers.

“Put them on screen!” the Grand Vizier bellowed. “Behold, captain! See what happens to your women when you dare to disobey me!”

The four men chained to the wall exchanged glances. There was an element of fear there, admittedly, but the trained eye would also have caught amusement, smugness and anticipation. Spock alone remained aloof, but there was a certain glint in his eye, briefly, that told of a hidden hilarity.

Seconds later, the gigantic screen showed four separate feeds from security cameras. They showed prison cells deep underneath the Vizier’s headquarters. They were typical in every way of the usual cells that _Enterprise_ Away Teams often found themselves in, except for the fact that they were empty. Well, not _quite_. Each of the cells had one or more unconscious security guards strewn about.

Kirk peered at the screen, a grin on his face.

“Did you make them invisible?” he asked innocently.

“Force Leader!” the Grand Vizier bellowed. “Rewind the tape!”

The images on screen blurred and ran backwards.

 

CAM ONE

 

Uhura sighed impatiently. This was exactly why she hated Away Teams. Give her a nice comfortable bridge station any day of the week. She peered at the bed in the cell, and wrinkled her nose. Some of those stains looked disgusting. The walls were made of rock, and there were no windows. A dim light illuminated the small cell, and a camera mounted in one of the corners tracked her every mood. She resisted the urge to communicate something rude with  
her hands to the person monitoring the feed.

Just because she had been kidnapped and imprisoned against her will was no reason to resort to crudity.

Metal pipes rang along the back of the wall, emerging from the cell on her left and disappearing to the cell on her right. She narrowed her eyes in thought. She had already tried banging on the doors and walls of the cell, but the soundproofing was too good. She had no idea if anyone had heard her.

But the pipes...

She removed one of her earrings and sat on the cold floor next to where the pipe disappeared into another cell. She tapped the metal of her earring firmly on the pipe, and smiled when a resounding clanging sound emerged. She paused to arrange the sequence she would need in her head, and then began to tap out a message in rapid code against the metal pipe. She paused, and then grinned as a faint but recognisable message returned to her along the same pipe.

 

“She’s communicating!” screeched the Grand Vizier.

“That is her job,” said Spock calmly. “Lieutenant Uhura is unsurpassed in her communication skills.”

“Why didn’t anyone take those damn earrings off her?”

Some of the security guards looked nervously at each other.

“Um, well, we tried, sir, but....”

“Spit it out, man!” roared the Grand Vizier.

“She _looked_ at us, sir,” the unfortunate guard replied. “Er. With her eyes.”

The Grand Vizier stared at him in amazement.

“Did you expect her to use her feet?” he enquired.

“Lieutenant Uhura is also considered to be unsurpassed in her ability to communicate without using words,” Spock said helpfully.

The Grand Vizier pursed his lips.

“Show me the next piece of footage!” he snapped.

 

CAM TWO

 

Gaila sighed and looked around her tiny cell. Booooo-ring. No complicated computer equipment to hack, no real door security to bypass. Yes, admittedly, she could yank the camera from the ceiling, take out the lens, use it to cut through the shoddy housing on the door lock, rewire the circuitry and open the door, but where was the fun in that? Where was the _challenge_?

She sighed again, and sat against the wall. If nothing interesting happened in the next ten minutes she was going to go ahead and cannibalise the camera. This imprisonment was going to play merry hell with the computer simulations she had left running in her lab. It was then she heard the knocking.

It took her a few minutes to decode the message and come up with an answer – she was an _engineer_ and a _computer engineer_ at that, not a communications specialist, but she was pretty sure that she had the gist of it. Between them, she and Uhura sketched out a plan. It was fairly simple, nothing complicated – lure guard in, knock him unconscious, steal his pass key, save the captain, return to the _Enterprise_ as noble heroes, get drunk in mess hall in gigantic celebration party. You know, the usual Thursday.

Gaila sat next to the point where the pipes disappeared into the next cell along and began to transmit the plan to Christine.

 

“I don’t get it,” whispered McCoy to Scotty. “Surely Gaila could break out of there?”

“In a heartbeat,” Scotty replied immediately. “It’s child’s play.”

“So why doesn’t she?”

“Because it’s child’s play,” repeated the Scotsman slowly. “It’s no’ a _challenge_ , do  
you get me? To someone like her, locking her up in there is an insult. If she just pulled apart the camera, sliced through the door lock housing and rewired the circuitry she’d be giving them what they wanted. She’ll no’ stoop to _their_ level. She’s an _engineer_.”

Scotty looked proudly at Gaila on screen, nodding his approval as she began to tap out a coded message on the pipes.

“I still don’t get it,” said McCoy to nobody in particular.

 

CAM THREE

 

Christine had allowed herself to be put in the cell with particularly bad grace. She knew that it was standard procedure to allow your enemies to think that they had the upper hand in these situations, but she couldn’t help thinking that maybe that by having you in a locked cell, sometimes they did actually have the upper hand over you.

She had taken Gaila’s evening class in basic circuitry, she knew that she could override the doors if she had to, but that would mean that she’d be acting alone. Now that they were separated from the other party Uhura had command, and Christine was going to have to wait for her to get a message to her or get the cell doors open somehow. If she acted independently, she risked ruining whatever Uhura’s plan was.

She paced around the room, a grim look on her face. She hated inaction. The first goon she saw was going to get a whole load of trouble coming his way, that was for sure.

Soon after that, Gaila started tapping out a message on the pipes that ran along the length of the cell block. It was a little garbled – that bit about raspberries was a miscommunication, Christine was sure – but the basics of the plan made it through. She grinned. Uhura’s fingerprints were all over this. They all had their parts to play, and she was going to enjoy hers.

 

McCoy laughed aloud. “Well, now you’ve done it,” he said to the Vizier and the crowd at large. “You’ve got her pissed off now.”

“She’s a _woman_ ,” the Vizier said dismissively.

“She’s a force of nature,” corrected McCoy. “That pacing means she’s irritated and bored, two things that you definitely do not want combined in Christine. The grin means she knows _exactly_ how she’s going to kick your ass.“

“You should believe him,” chipped in Kirk. “We all know how often she kicks his ass around sickbay.”

The others nodded. McCoy settled back comfortably against the wall.

“Get ready, boys,” he told his fellow prisoners. “This is going to be _epic_.”

 

CAM FOUR

 

Janice Rand sat primly on the very edge of the bed. It looked positively vile, and she thought longingly of her bed on board the _Enterprise_. It was wide and it was long, and its... decoration was definitely not authorised by Starfleet Command. She thought back to earlier that day and sighed longingly. Sometimes that _decoration_ made it very difficult to get out of bed in the morning.

She scowled. She had carved out some very precious time from her schedule for this evening, and now it had all gone out the airlock. When they escaped and got back to the Enterprise, she was going to have to appear at the after-party and that was going to cut into her recreation period severely.

Her fingers itched for her custom-designed PADD, taken from her by the idiot that had manhandled her into the cell. If he had scratched the display it she was going to have his balls for earrings. She organised her own life and the life of the captain and by extension, the rest of the senior staff with it. She felt naked without it.

A faint tapping had her pressing her ear to the pipes that rang along the length of the room. She translated the message, and concluded that a lot must have got lost somewhere along the pipe. Still, blue elephants and cheese triangles to one side, she knew what she had to do. She schooled her face accordingly, and jumped up onto the bed.

 

“Isn’t she _gorgeous_?” said Kirk dreamily.

“She threw a PADD at you last week,” McCoy said, looking at Kirk strangely. “It must still be the concussion talking.”

“Totally my fault,” Kirk confessed. “I wasn’t listening when she was running through the weekly schedule.”

“What were you doing?” asked Scotty, curiously.

“I was drawing the fight that the Gorn and I had on a little block of paper for Sam’s kids. When you ruffle the pages you see the fight from start to finish.”

“And they let you be captain,” said McCoy in disbelief.

“Hey, not everyone could have made a projectile weapon out of stuff laying around on that planet!” Kirk protested.

Scotty and Spock exchanged looks, and kept quiet.

Kirk looked back again at Janice, who was screaming and gesturing wildly at the camera.

“What do you think she’s doing?” he asked McCoy.

“Beats me, but they’re all doing it,” McCoy replied.

Sure enough, all four corners of split-screen display were showing the female crew of the _Enterprise_ standing on their beds and screaming, pointing wildly at the floor of their cells.

“Oh, the _idiots_ ,” the Grand Vizier muttered, open-mouthed, as the cell doors were flung open and armed guards ran into each of the rooms.

Uhura dispatched hers with an elegant kick to his head. The guard staggered backwards, slammed into the wall and knocked himself out. She patted him down, pocketed his access cards, swiped his weapon and locked the cell door behind her. It took her less than ten seconds to take down her opponent, and she did it all without breaking a sweat.

Gaila dealt with her guard by kneeing him directly in the solar plexus. As he slumped to the ground, winded, she finished him off by smashing his face into her knee. She too relieved him of his cards and gun before dropping a quick kiss to the top of his helmet. Her bright red lipstick mark shone out like a beacon against the shiny black. The cheery wave she gave to the camera was returned by some of the more impressionable soldiers in the main hall.

Two guards rushed into Christine’s cell, but they needed more backup than that. The first guard ran straight at her, but she grabbed his arm, twisted it up behind him with a sickening breaking noise and used his body as a shield as the second guard opened fire on her. She planted her foot in the now dead guard’s backside and propelled him forward towards his horrified colleague, who fell to the ground under the unexpected weight. Every man in the ornate hall groaned in unison as she delivered a hefty kick to the gonads of the fallen soldier, who turned an alarming shade of puce. His squeals of pain were short-lived as she whacked him in the face with the butt of the weapon she had taken from the first soldier. His head rattled off the stone floor and he was unconscious. Christine took both sets of cards and weapons, and stamped off screen.

Janice’s opponent was an ox of a man, far larger than any of the other soldiers.

“If you hand over your weapon now, I’ll go easy on you,” she told him seriously.

He just laughed.

“I do like a girl with _spirit_ ,” he said lasciviously. Janice sighed.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I really don’t think you will.”

He didn’t.

The chained-up crew of the _Enterprise_ watched in horror, then in amusement, then in downright glee when they say the petite yeoman turn into a one-woman fighting machine.

“She’s incredible,” breathed Scotty. “You wouldna think a wee lassie like that could do so much damage to a man.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Yeoman Rand is merely taking advantage of the basic laws of kinetics, and what is obviously a thorough knowledge of Terran martial arts.”

“That’s a clean break,” McCoy said admiringly as Rand did something vicious to the soldier’s leg that left him rolling on the floor howling in pain.

“Isn’t she _gorgeous_?” Kirk said again. “Oh, nice shot Janice!”

Three female heads popped into the screen. Christine nodded approvingly, Gaila clapped and Uhura flicked a glance at her chronometer impatiently.

“Need a hand?” offered Gaila.

“I’m good, thanks,” Janice panted as she karate-chopped the guard twice in the throat, making him turn vaguely purple and gasp for air.

“I’m in love,” Kirk informed McCoy. “Where do you buy engagement rings?”

On the giant screen, the giant soldier gave up the ghost and fell into unconsciousness. There was a muttering of discontent among the guards and three of the chained officers whooped and stamped their feet. Spock merely inclined his head towards the screen in a gesture of respect.

“What are you waiting for?” screamed the Grand Vizier, pointing at the large double doors that led out of the main hall. “Go and round them up!”

The mutterings of discontent grew louder.

“They’re only four women! They can’t hurt you!” the Vizier said through gritted teeth.

“With all due respect sir, they seemed to do a pretty good job of hurting Alpha Detachment,” said the Force Leader dubiously. “And now they’ve got access cards to all levels of Headquarters, and they’re armed. Given what we know about them, they have a communications specialist that can use our equipment to call for back-up, an engineer that will be able to hack through any defensive measures that we can put in place and two assassins that are disguised as a nurse and a secretary.”

“ _Head_ nurse,” McCoy corrected.

“She prefers “personal assistant”,” said Kirk knowledgably. “I learned _that_ the hard way. To-do list stapled to my forehead.”

“What did it say?” asked Scotty.

“’Learn to call me an assistant’. She has beautiful penmanship.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” said the Force Leader glaring at the captives, “To be honest, sir, I think we’re out-classed and as soon as they get a message to their starship, we’re going to be out-gunned.”

“What sort of henchman _are_ you?” asked the Grand Vizier in amazement.

“One with a mortgage and three kids,” said the Force Leader honestly. “And I’d like to live to hench again, if it’s all the same to you, sir.”

The Force Leader turned to the assembled crowds of black-suited soldiers.

“I don’t know about you, lads, but this sounds like Murder By Commanding Officer to me. I’m heading off home, and I’ll take anybody with me that wants to go. “

The discontented mutterings turned into discontented shouts and roars. By common agreement, the entire squadron of security guards threw open the double doors and fled.

“Bastards,” grumbled the Grand Vizier. He sighed and took off his green cape. “I suppose I should have seen this coming,” he said philosophically. “No Grand Vizier has ever completed their evil plan.”

Any condolences the _Enterprise_ crew could offer were lost in a massive explosion that took out the centre of the ceiling. Emerging from the dust were four rappelling ropes, and Chapel, Uhura, Gaila and Rand slid down them expertly, somersaulting off and landing at four points of a square to cover the entire room with their weapons.

When the dust settled they looked vaguely disappointed to discover that their only adversary had been knocked unconscious by a flying lump of plaster.

“Awesome entrance!” Kirk enthused as the women freed them from the chains. “We’re totally taking the footage from the security cameras and playing it at the Christmas party.”

“I can’t believe I chipped my manicure for nothing,” Gaila sulked. At Scotty’s stricken look, she added hastily, “Not that rescuing you was nothing, darling! It was just...”

“A bit easy?” he offered. She nodded in relief.

“Exactly!” Gaila shot a dirty look at the unconscious Grand Vizier. “Would it have killed him to sic a few crazed robots at us?”

“You just don’t get the thought put into nefarious plans these days,” Scotty agreed. “Ah well. Better luck next time, eh?”

Gaila still looked upset.

“Would sex make it better?” Scotty asked. She smiled a small smile at him.

“And then afterwards we can reprogram the computer to make it think that Friday is Intergalactic No-Underwear Day?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

“Of course,” he replied, beaming at her. “I’ll get my kilt out ready.”

 

“You are uninjured?” Spock asked Uhura, looking at her body very carefully.

“I am,” she replied, returning the look. “Are you?”

“I have suffered no lasting physical damage,” Spock replied. “But I lost sensation in my fingers during my time in captivity.”

Vulcans do not make puppy-dog eyes. It is illogical, especially given their evolutionary descent from a feline species. However, as much as he tries to make it otherwise, Spock is half human.

“Poor baby,” Uhura crooned, gently touching the tips of her fingers to his. “We’d better get back to the _Enterprise_ and massage the sensation back into your hands.”

“It seems the logical course of action,” Spock said faintly.

“Then,” she said, “You can massage _me_.”

 

“Do you think that the captain will let me keep these guns?” Christine asked McCoy. She had picked up a low-slung holster belt from somewhere, and the guns sat on her hips, lending a lethal edge to an already dangerous body.

“Probably not,” McCoy said, reaching out and tracing along the top of the leather belt. “You know that he doesn’t like anyone having cooler weapons than him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Christine said, looking downhearted.

“Hey,” McCoy said, drawing her close for a kiss. “You could keep the belt. I _like_ the belt.”

“I could put hyposprays in it,” she said thoughtfully.

“Or bottles of raspberry syrup,” he offered.

She smiled wickedly at him.

“Don’t lose those handcuffs,” she warned him.

 

“I had plans for tonight,” Rand told Kirk, annoyed. “I had to organise the time three weeks in advance.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said honestly. “I know how hard you work.”

“We were going to go back to bed and finish what we started this morning,” she mourned. “And now by the time we de-brief, have our post-mission medicals and you review the duty logs, we’ll only have twenty minutes before I have to teach my Advanced Self Defence class to the catering staff.”

Kirk looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“Don’t ever piss off the lunch ladies,” she warned him. “They have skills.”

He swallowed audibly.

“How long would it take you to organise a wedding?” he asked.

“It depends,” she said slowly. “Who’s getting married?”

“We are,” he said bravely. “I mean, that is, if you want to. Marry me, that is.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“Think about it before you say anything, but this is perfect. We wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore, because we’d both be living in my quarters, which are _massive_ , by the way. Seriously, my socks live in a separate time zone to my underpants. There’d be no need to schedule sex three weeks advance because, hey, same bed, and it’s not like I’m going to have an issue with you making all my decisions for me, because that’s like, your job, and, most of all...” He paused for breath, and trailed off.

“Yes?” she asked, still dumbfounded.

“I love you,” he said honestly. “It took me watching you cream a man into mush to make me realise it, but it’s true. The way you karate-chopped his neck...Janice, it’s meant to be.”

He watched her in nervous anticipation. She eyed him thoughtfully.

“No alien priestesses,” she warned. “No helpless damsels in distress, alternate-universe counterparts, non-corporeal beings of undetermined gender or hookers.”

“Agreed,” he said instantly.

Janice smiled happily.

“Twenty minutes,” she said, poking her custom-built PADD that she had retrieved from the guard room. “I think I can fit you in.”

“Will you show me that double-handed karate chop you did?” he asked as he slung his arm around her shoulders and started walking out of the secret lair.

“Oh Jim,” sighed Janice. “Save _something_ for the honeymoon.”


End file.
